


safe

by apocryphic



Series: destiny week 2017 [1]
Category: Destiny (Video Game)
Genre: Destiny Week, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-28
Updated: 2017-08-28
Packaged: 2018-12-21 01:01:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11933055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apocryphic/pseuds/apocryphic
Summary: He's very proud of his Guardian, even if she'd dry heaved for a full five minutes and twenty-three seconds before he was able to really introduce himself.---for destiny week, day 1: ghosts.





	safe

**Author's Note:**

> [DESTINY WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEK](https://destinyweek.tumblr.com/)

Ichneus finds out early on that his Guardian is… a personality. Yes. That is the best way to put it, he supposes, as he scans the surroundings for her benefit, marking what is possibly of interest. She didn't make it a point to tell him why they came back to the Cosmodrome so soon after arriving to the Tower (safety! security! allies!), but she does not really tell him much, anyway. He has yet to puzzle out whether it is because she doesn't like _talking_ or just because she doesn't like _him_.

The very thought sends Ichneus absolutely _aching_. Every other Ghost he's spoken to has been so enthusiastic about their Guardian's fondness for them. Each and every one.

That's not to say that he doesn't care deeply for his Guardian. She is so _vibrant_ , her Light brighter than anything he's ever laid his single eye on! Even in the short time since he found her, she has proven herself to have every making of someone vital to this world. She will save so many lives. Yes, yes. He knows this as much as he knows _anything_ , and he knows so many things.

But she does not talk to him, really. She does not talk to almost anyone. Even the Speaker, who deemed it right to tell her everything he could. Now, laying eyes on the Traveler could make anyone speechless, Ichneus understands, but somehow the Traveler was the one thing that made his Guardian almost _laugh_.

Laugh! Imagine, laughing at the _Traveler_ —

"Ghost?"

Ichneus perks instantly, appearing above his Guardian's outstretched palm as if he was simply waiting for the chance this whole time. "Yes?"

"How long was I out?"

And out means dead-dead, of course. She has not had to be revived since she was initially woken, which is _impressive_ if you ask Ichneus. He's heard stories from plenty of other Ghosts about how their Guardians took barely a step before being shot through the skull by Fallen, or downed by a Cabal aircraft. He's very proud of his Guardian, even if she'd dry heaved for a full five minutes and twenty-three seconds before he was able to really introduce himself.

( _I feel like death_ , she'd wheezed with a rattling throat, her hands pressing over her stomach and shoulders and legs like she still wasn't sure she was wholly intact.

 _Well, you were_ , Ichneus had told her, and then had felt bad that these were going to forever be the first things he'd say to his Guardian. _Dead, I mean_.

It had taken a bit for the words to register, and then she'd gotten to her feet, snow dusting the armor pads over her knees.

 _That's great,_ she'd said.

 _Er._ He'd flicked his eye over her, scanning for signs of shock. When he'd found none, he'd shaken himself in a distinct imitation of an energetic shrug. _Anyway, welcome back to the land of the living, Guardian. We have a lot of work to do._ )

Ichneus flickers reassuringly. "A long time," he tells her, because wonderful Guardian or not, humans aren't made for conceptualizing incredible spans of time. And even though she's _his_ Guardian, and he _knows_ that she's very capable, he wants to make it easier for her.

The memory of their first meeting is tucked away in Ichneus' databanks. He'll never want to forget it (as if he could!), even if he was not nearly as good at explaining as he would've liked. It might not be the ideal way of meeting his Guardian, but it is still the start of something so _incredible_. She had looked over the world with an awestruck silence and taken deep, cold breaths into her lungs and stepped one foot after another towards the Tower.

And they'd made it.

Ichneus still can't quite believe he'd found her. If she doesn't like him, well — they can still be great teammates. He was born knowing it was always her after all, even if he had not _met_ her yet. He's been told, too, that some Guardians take to it better than others. He knows of a Ghost whose Exo Guardian had adapted particularly fast, but also knows of an Awoken who had needed _so_ much time to catch up on the world, his Ghost tiresome in the effort to quench his need for knowledge.

Ichneus thinks that probably his Guardian is just very scared, sometimes.

But it will work out.

It has to.

 

* * *

 

Ichneus does have to revive her, eventually. With the amount of danger that Guardians face, he is not taken aback by it, no, not at all. In fact, he was expecting it, and waiting on the wings for the opportunity to do so! He is especially glad it's somewhere relatively secluded, where he can transport her body, resurrected and well, to a safer part of the zone. Away from Vandals. Far away from them.

But —

 _But_.

He is not prepared for her to come up again gasping.

Her gloved hands keep clutching at the place her helmet and chestpiece meet, as if attempting to pry them apart, to get at her neck. He darts this way and that around her; little, alarmed sounds distort his voice when he speaks.

"You're alive!" Ichneus says, desperate and panicked right along with his Guardian, one corner of his form bumping gently into her shoulder. "You're alright!"  

"I was — I," she tries and coughs and makes an _awful_ sound.

 _But there is nothing wrong_ , he thinks. He runs a scan and all her vitals are in order, though her pulse is skyrocketing, _oh_. Her fingers get between the pieces of armor out of sheer determination and he buzzes as she claws at her throat.

"This is what we do," Ichneus goes on, wavering. He hovers close. "You're all in order again. I fixed it. Nothing is wrong, I promise!"  

His Guardian stops, hands falling from her neck bit by bit. Ichneus cannot be sure if she stops because of him or because she realizes her throat is no longer spilling blood. She looks around and then she fixes her eyes on him, who flashes briefly in an attempt at comfort. Even through her helmet's visor, he feels the watchful gaze on him, her panic dying off slowly — and along with it, so does his.

He fixed it. He knows he did.

"Are you okay?" he asks. Tentative, only at first.

She reaches for him and he goes without a second thought, perching in the palm of her hand. Relief washes over him. Yes, she is okay. She will get used to it. He's heard plenty whispers about this from bittersweet Ghosts returning from missions — the first revival after the initial contact is always the hardest. Always.

"I don't like dying," she says eventually.

"I'll keep you safe," Ichneus tells her. He means it, and says so with all of the earnest surety he can. He cannot stop her from dying, no, he cannot defend her, though he may try — but he can keep her together afterwards. He can make sure that she comes back. He _will_ make sure that she comes back.

He can't imagine losing his Guardian for anything. He doesn't dare try.

When she draws her hand away and he vanishes — still with her, though!; always, still with her — he makes sure to monitor every beat of her heart.

 

* * *

 

"You're alright," she whispers to him once, months and months later, deep in the cavernous halls of Earth's Moon. He is pressed between her shoulder and her helmet, and he is so very afraid, and her voice is so, so soft — "I'll keep you safe."


End file.
